


Twin Sized Mattress

by irlmagicalgirl



Category: South Park
Genre: Cuddles, Domestic Violence, Fluff, Hello Kitty Band Aids, Kenny figures out his life, Kennys stream of consciousness, Love, M/M, also sailor moon shirts, bunny - Freeform, its just cute okay I promise, mysterion - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-04 05:00:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10268831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irlmagicalgirl/pseuds/irlmagicalgirl
Summary: You stopped by my house the night you escapedWith tears in my eyes, I begged you to stayYou said, "Hey man, I love you but no fucking way"--In which Kenny's exhaustion triggers several epiphanies and his parents' stupidity triggers a late night rendezvous.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I want to write several pieces about Kenny inspired by various songs, and The Front Bottoms have so much that reminds me of Kenny. So this piece is roughly inspired by the song Twin Sized Mattress. You'll recognize a line or two from the song, but mostly this is all a result of Kenny's stream of consciousness. I highly recommend listening to the song before or after reading the fic if you don't know it already. Or don't listen to it. I don't care, it doesn't really affect the story. But it's a good song and it'll add to the fic, certainly.
> 
> Enjoy :)

Kenny pulled on his dark hood and put his head between his arms, laying on his desk in homeroom. He had outgrown his orange parka several years previously, and immediately graduated to a hand-me-down hoodie of Kevin’s. It featured a purple and white Colorado Rockies logo, and though Kenny felt he had outgrown baseball back when his little league team situation went to shit and a miserable summer, he was fond of the article of clothing. His orange parka had been a staple, but he was the first to admit that orange wasn’t exactly his color. It wasn’t like he had ever had a choice in the matter. He had been wearing the parka for as long as he remembered, and it was probably a hand-me-down, too. He had never asked. It had just…always been there.

It had become a kind of security piece, but the role was easily taken over by the black Rockies hoodie. The dark color stood out less, and if anything, it fit him better. As a final, more secret reason that Kenny kept to himself, it made him feel like Mysterion even while he was in school. The purple and black color scheme certainly helped. It was just something he needed to keep to himself. His friends now all feel between the ages of the older end of 16 and the younger end of 18, and they had all long sense abandoned their superhero personas as they abandoned middle school. All but Kenny. The main justification he gave himself was that he actually _had_ a power, _and_ used it to help people when necessary. Really, though, it just gave him a sense of strength that he otherwise didn't believe he possessed. His parents were still freaked the hell out by his heroic persona, though as of late, he hadn't been using it to threaten them as much. It just helped to get out of the house now and then and _feel_ that he had the power his alter ego possessed. It helped to know that a part of him was strong, even if he only felt it while he was someone else.

He yawned and rose his head from where it had been buried in his arms. Sleep had not been his friend lately. The yawn forced exhausted tears to pool at the corners of his eyes and he wiped them away hastily. He had been entertaining the irrational notion that holding in his tears gave him _extra_ strength, and the day they were built up enough, he would use that strength to...do something. He hadn't decided yet. Something really tough that he didn't yet have the emotional stamina yet. He had to keep in and save his precious tears – even if they were from a yawn.

He looked around at his friends in homeroom with him. Stan and Kyle sat on the far opposite side of the room and didn't seem to notice his yawn at all. He admired _their_ strength. They weren't afraid to stand up and fight for each other or their town. They weren't afraid to stand up to their parents like adults. Even when they were kids, Kenny recalled the time Kyle's father had been called out as the troll that nearly destroyed Colorado, if not the town. It was a horrible situation for a child to be in, but he remembered Kyle's strength, standing up to his father, and mother, and protecting Ike when _he_ had been the one accused. And Stan never let _any_ of them down, and when Kyle moved to San Francisco, the kid had written him a whole _song_ to save him and get him to come back.

Kenny pushed his hood back down, having made himself self-conscious, and shook out his shaggy blond hair. It was a little dirty and messy for his personal liking, but it wasn't like he had the luxury of daily, thorough showers. Turns out water can get expensive. And it's definitely a less preferable liquid to booze. He supposed his poor hair hygiene wouldn't really go noticed by anyone but himself. For the 2.5 seconds that he had had a meaningless fling with Bebe during Sophomore year, she had told him that the devil-may-care look was “pretty hot” on him. This was one of the few comments of Bebe's that he actually took to heart, since he knew she was only with him to make Clyde jealous. She wasn't even really into him and still called him hot, so he guessed there had to be some truth to it. Then, the only time he ever complained about his hair to his friends got him a very flat-toned response from Craig telling him not to worry about it because, in his words, “you're still pretty fuckable. More than most of us, anyway.” No one else had offered a comment, but no one had objected either. Kyle had shrugged softly, as if to tell Kenny that Craig wasn't _wrong_. Evidently, it was accepted knowledge that Kenny was “pretty fuckable,” dirty hair or not. And if Craig wasn't the most bluntly honest and gay as hell guy Kenny knew, he couldn't say who was. Later that day, Craig came to tell Kenny that, despite his “world-reknowned sweet ass,” his previous comment was _not_ an invitation to have a threesome with he and Tweek, but that hair was the least of his problems anyway, and that if he was _really_ stressed about repelling people, he should focus on his financial situation instead. Or the constant, faintly lingering scent of smoke.

“Yeah, tell me something I don't know, Tucker.”

Craig had shrugged, and it actually _looked_ as though he was trying to care less. “Just a suggestion.”

So really, maybe appearances _were_ the least of his problems if the rumors were true and half the boys _and_ girls in the school were after his bi-as-fuck, “world-reknowned sweet ass.” Still, it was kind of nice for a change to focus on a less-than-clean hair problem rather than a splitting-a-poptart-with-Karen-for-dinner problem.

So there were Kyle and Stan, and though they'd never say they same about themselves, Kenny considered them to be lions in wiry, sometimes broken, teenage boys' bodies. Even Cartman, fuckwad jackass that he was, had his strengths. Or he _felt_ that he did. But even that was kind of a strength on its own, wasn't it? Believing that you had it? And then there was himself, needing to keep a stupid purple cape in his closet to feel like he had any power against his parents, or value to his sister. Granted, he _had_ upgraded Mysterion as he had gotten older, and he had the perfect opportunity to do so since he had stayed in Home Ec. and needed to do a personal project for a final – fabric provided by the class budget which had been saved up by their bake sale, which Butters had been the star of. Since then, Mysterion's lines and been cleaned up, and he no longer wore underwear outside his tights, thanks be to God, but it didn't mean the concept didn't still have juvenile roots.

Speaking of Butters...

Kenny looked around the classroom foolishly. Butters hadn't shared his homeroom all year, but he was tired enough to forget and still needed to look around the class. It was probably for the best. Somehow, Butters always ended up being a distraction. He always had been. Something about him had always been fascinating to Kenny – a sort of enigma – ever since elementary school. And he just kept evolving as an enigma. Every time Kenny was sure he understood the boy, there was a new aspect of him to understand. Kenny almost feared it was becoming an obsession, this need to understand his innocent, yet somehow so complicated, friend. And recently there came to be another new concept to comprehend, and so far, it had been the hardest; Butters had met puberty, and puberty had given him a big, loving, bear hug. He hadn't muscled out like Stan did, and he hadn't stretched quite as tall as Kyle had, but what _did_ happen worked for him. He had grown into his body and shed some baby fat, and had muscle tone where it mattered for the sports he played (mostly limited to volleyball and being a base on the cheerleading team, but it suited him). His hair had also somehow seamlessly transformed from a dorky fade to a stylish undercut with minimal tweaking, and he was taller than half the boys in their class. It was all difficult for Kenny to wrap his mind around. When Butters had come back to school for Junior year, having blossomed as he did, Craig offered another of his valuable inputs – a subtle, but telling, “Huh,” pretty much summarizing the feelings of the entire Junior class.

So Kenny's innocent enigma of a friend had also turned into a rather attractive young man, which added a little more weight to the obsession Kenny feared he had. And obsession with an odd, but sweet, friend is one thing. An obsession with a suddenly quite handsome, and sweet, friend is another thing entirely. An obsession called a “crush,” which Kenny wasn't entirely sure he was ready to own up to. Not that homeroom period, at least. It was just nice that he wasn't present. He had an uncanny knack for picking up on Kenny's emotions, another point of unknowable mystery, and would _surely_ say something along the lines of, “Oh, Ken, well, don't you know that crying is a healthy response, and that it releases chemicals, and blah, blah, smart science shit, blah, just let it out, Ken!” Not that it wasn't kind and sweet, but again, they were tears of strength he was saving. And then Butters would undoubtedly pick up on how tired was, and give him a talk about _that_ , and give him tips for rest. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate it. In fact, it felt nice to be as cared for as Butters made him feel. It was a rare thing. Not a lot of people could do that. Add it to the list of things Kenny was still trying to figure out about Stotch. It was just too early and too bad of a morning following too bad of a night to have the mental or emotional capacity to focus on someone _caring_ about him. Let alone, a stupidly attractive, unabashedly kind person.

As it was, Butters was providing enough distraction. It was difficult to _not_ think about him these days. In all honesty, _he_ was probably the strongest person Kenny knew. Without a doubt, he _had_ to be. No one got as much shit from their parents as Butters did. Kenny didn't count his own situation. His parents were white-trash, rarely sober idiots, but even through their neglect, he had some level of freedom. It didn't feel like they were the way they were to _punish_ him, or Karen, or Kevin. It wasn't like they had to make food and showers last because their parents hated them. After all, it wasn't like his parents were eating a feast while he and the other kids starved. Butters' parents were a different matter entirely. They wouldn't bat an eye before banning Butters from having dinner all week for coming home with anything less than an A+ in his report card. For Christ's sake, he had been locked in the _basement_ before. He had been grounded once because of his face. Just because it was his face. Compared to the Stotches, Kenny would have _almost_ been willing to nominate his parents for the South Park Parents of the Year award (which _was_ a real thing, believe it or not, despite the fact that there were a limited number of parents. The Broflovskis had won twice, and the Marshes had won three times. Even Liane Cartman had won once). And yet, Butters came to school with a smile and love for _everyone_ , doing his work perfectly and without spite. He even took merciless teasing with a smile half the time, giving everyone the benefit of the doubt. Funny enough, the teasing had stopped a bit with the start of Junior year and his growth spurt, and even though Cartman still persisted in true Cartman fashion, Butters _still_ wore a smile and had (miraculously) good things to say about him, too.

The bell rang to dismiss homeroom and Kenny shrugged on his dilapidated backpack and went to join Stan and Kyle, still not quite awake enough to speak or recall what had happened in class. There was an announcement about a pep rally or something, which he only paid attention to because Stan was on the football team, and since he and Kyle always did so much to support him, Kenny figured it was only fair to attend and support all of their shindigs as well. Pep rally _also_ meant cheerleaders. Cheerleaders meant Butters.

The obsession, which had inevitably became...some sort of a crush, however the hell that transpired, evidently extended to being interested in Butters' extracurricular life as well. Although Kenny supposed that had already been the case. He had always kind of been present in Butters' life. It was just alarmingly obvious recently. Now that he was trying to determine if he even had a crush at all. At this point though, between the appreciation of Butters', dare he say it, handsomeness, and being obsessed with the rarity of his being, it was hard to even deny there wasn't infatuation there. It just took an exhausted homeroom's length of stream of consciousness to actually consider it realistically.

“Kenny?”

He looked up, flicking his hair to the side. Somehow, his feet had carried him to his locker with his friends. Stan and Kyle were staring at him with looks of confusion. Kenny couldn't even be sure which of them had spoken.

“Hm?”

“You okay there?” Stan asked. “Like...y'know, all things considered?”

“Mm, why?”

Kyle shrugged. “You're like, so out of it, dude. Even in homeroom. Did you even take paper out? You've been doing so good keeping up lately.” The redhead looked over both his shoulders before leaning forward. “Are you _high?_ ” he whispered.

Kenny scoffed. “Ha, no, I'm not _high._ ” It was a fair question though. Kenny _had_ come to school high at _least_ once before. At least. Just not recently. There was too much going on lately. “Just...long night, yeah? Didn't sleep well. Being tired makes me think about shit.”

“You...good, though?” Stan asked again. He wasn't trying to be pushy. He just knew that usually when this was the case, Kenny was thinking about his parents, and how to feed his sister, and keep his family out of jail, and escaping South Park, and getting a real job, and an entire laundry list of things that generally drove the blond kid to a panic attack. Last time, it caused Kenny to step up his school work, but nine times out of ten, it just led to him chain smoking a pack or two in a day – or even just in a few hours.

Kenny didn't answer right away. He was still plagued. Partially because he was still zoned in on the fact that all his friends were lions and he was like, a field mouse or some shit (or else they wouldn't need to keep asking how he was doing, right?), but more so because his mind was still unequivocally on _Leopold Stotch_ and not on the conversation at hand.

“Stan.”

“Yes...?” Stan replied slowly, concerned at the way Kenny replied (or didn't reply) to his second checkup.

“How do you know you love someone?”

“The fuck...?”

“No, really, like, I don't know. Gotta be an important thing to know.”

“You mean like...you think someone's hot and you want to get in their pants and want to talk to them or whatever? Don't you know that by now?”

“No, dumb ass, not a crush. Like, how do you know you love someone? Like when it goes beyond a crush or obsession or whatever?”

Kyle took over when Stan's expression revealed that he had tapped out.

“I guess when that person's happiness is suddenly more important to you than your own? You don't really think twice about doing something for them. Kinda...consumes your soul. Although if it's an obsession, it's probably already at that point.”

“Makes you wanna puke,” Stan said, eyes focused on the ground. It sounded more like he was speaking to himself than Kenny. He looked up. “Like...in a good way though.”

“Right...,” Kenny replied. “Right.”

“Does that...help?” Kyle asked, shutting his locker and heading for their second period class.

“No,” Kenny said absently, switching out his books.

“ _Are_ you in love?” Stan asked, still audibly confused.

“No,” Kenny lied. “Um...cover for me, yeah? I gotta go to the bathroom. Nurse, or whatever. I'll get a note.”

“Are you _sure_ you're okay?” Stan asked.

“No,” Kenny answered for the third time. “See you soon.”

Stan looked to Kyle to see if his friend had any explanation, but found that Kyle was going the same thing.

“Dude. What the fuck?”

Kyle shrugged and watched Kenny saunter off to the bathroom to puke.

oOo

After his escapade of sickness, Kenny trudged to the nurse to get a note. Despite his empty stomach, his queasiness had hit him like a ton of bricks. He hadn't really noticed though, until Stan said that love made you puke. It was like he had been granted permission to do so, and it all hit him at once.

“What's the matter, kid?” the nurse asked. She was still fairly new, and though she was nice, she took her school nurse job very seriously, and didn't really know any of the kids yet.

“I threw up. Like a lot. I just need a note I can take to class.”

“Oh-ho, no you don't.”

“What? But no, like, I literally _just_ puked. I felt like sh- crap,” he said, catching himself. Something about his weird mood didn't scream _willing to curse at new nurses_.

“Oh, I believe you,” she said. “You're pretty pale. You don't look too good. But you can't go back to class.”

“What? Why not?”

“No school for 24 hours after you've thrown up. Sorry, kid. It's state mandated.”

He kicked at the nurse's file cabinet. “God _damn_ ,” he muttered. He couldn't say for sure what it was that pissed him off so much about the fact. School itself was pretty shitty, but it was better than being stuck at home when all of his friends were there. He had also started working harder and even going ahead with his school work a bit. He finally had an honors class, in English, but he wasn't good or quick enough to catch up easily when he missed a day. He made a mental note to ask Kyle for notes or something later. He also felt like being sent home for illness was another sign of weakness. Really, how much worse could it get? He wasn't even strong enough to stick through a school day, according to the state of Colorado. _And_ he would miss all his classes with Butters (he realized now that at least 50% of the reason he tried getting into more honors classes had to do with the fact that it would give him more classes with the kid). On the other hand, though, perhaps it was a good thing. He had already puked without having seen him at all.

He eventually made it to his second period class, no longer in a hurry since he was going to have to miss the rest of school. He walked in, trying to avoid looking at his classmates, due to shame or whatever it was, but he couldn't help it and he looked up anyway. Kyle and Kenny gave him looks of concern, and even Cartman looked a little interested, if only because he was jealous of whatever excuse Kenny had to go home. He supposed that if he looked like shit to a nurse who hardly knew him, he probably looked even worse to his friends. Thanks to a severe lack of self control, Kenny's eyes eventually reached Butters as well, who also provided a look of concern, even without knowing what was going on. His eyebrows were knit together, and _still_ , he was annoyingly attractive. Kenny felt his heart fall into his stomach, and realized that it had kind of been doing that all year when he was around Butters, and even various other times throughout their youth. It was just that _now_ , he had the reason why. He supposed he had always known the reason, but there was just no use pushing it down now. He loved Butters and the fact was a few seconds away from making him puke his guts out again.

Kenny handed the note to his teacher and after it had been read quickly, he was excused to go home. He pulled his hood back up as he exited, irrationally feeling as thought it would make him invisible, and left school to look for any logical place to go that _wasn't_ home.

oOo

Once he was out of school, Kenny was reminded why he had stopped skipping school – it was boring as _hell_. Out of complete lack of things to do, he ended up at City Wok to do a shift he wasn't scheduled for. Mr. Kim made it totally clear that the “child labor force” didn't get paid when it wasn't scheduled to work, even though Kenny reminded him that his labor was no longer child provided. Still, he stayed to wait a few tables and made ten dollars in tips. Nobody came to City Wok during a week day except for old people, and they were the shittiest tippers. He ended up skipping out before two when the few people that could be called a lunch rush had trickled out. He meandered to the park with hardly so much as a “thank you, Dennis,” and found a swing to slump on. Really, he just wanted to kill time so that he could get home about the same time he would normally, not really in the mood to explain to his parents that he had thrown up and was excused from school. Not that they'd really care anyway.

For once, he decided to actually swing. He rarely did, usually just swaying or twisting the chains around, but no one was nearby to judge him, so he swung. Really, it was worth it just to feel a flutter in his stomach that had nothing to do with feelings. The breeze felt good on the sweat he had built up between getting sick and working in the too-hot Chinese restaurant, and when he got high enough, he had lame thoughts of how nice it would feel for Mysterion's cape to flow behind him.

He finally jumped off, annoyed with himself and how childish he was acting, skinning his knee. He ignored the sting, surprised the swing hadn't found a way to kill him. He had been killed on those swings at least twice before. It was one of his favorite ways to die, but it _was_ still dying in the end. Obnoxious as hell.

He finally walked home around three, and based on how his parents didn't even look up, he figured that he probably _could_ have come home that morning when he had been excused and they really wouldn't have given it a second thought. He greeted Karen who was doing homework in her room before heading to his own room and falling on his bed. He looked though his poor excuse of a phone which he had been ignoring for hours, just to see that both Stan and Kyle had checked on him again, and that Kyle had already sent him pictures of notes he had taken in the classes they had shared. For a second, he was almost upset that Butters hadn't checked up on him, in true Butters fashion, but he was grounded so often, he might as well have not had a phone at all. He tapped out a quick thanks, and explained tersely that he had gotten sick and sent home, which he figured they had probably deduced, but that he would live (for once). He decided that, having missed a day of school, he might as well catch up and avoid running the risk of getting into bad habits again. He popped a cigarette in his mouth and opened his torn up copy of _Catcher in the Rye_ for English class. The book, unlike most, amused him. Mostly because Holden Caulfield, he decided, was something like a combination of he, Stan, and Kyle. His cynicism would have fit in well in South Park. The book also contained nothing that would cause him to think of Butters' stupid pretty face. He still wasn't entirely sure what to do with the feelings there.

English homework occupied him for most of the afternoon, which was great. His house was generally too chaotic to focus on anything at all. By eight o'clock, though, his parents inevitably started fighting, and though Kenny was pleased and thankful it had started later than usual (maybe his parents had been to high and mellowed out earlier to talk to each other), he regretted not having gone in the kitchen to get dinner for Karen earlier. The book and his cigarettes had distracted him, as he hoped they would do, but they had distracted him too much and for too long. He hated Karen going into the living room when their parents were fighting. She was a smart kid though, and when Kenny passed her room, he saw that she had snuck two packages of Poptarts.

There was no telling what the fight was about. Often, they were about nothing. Today, his parents were slurring so badly, Kenny couldn't make out many words other than “lazy,” “bitch,” “worthless,” and “asshole.” He leaned on the kitchen counter, dragging from his cigarette as he watched the spectacle. For some reason, he felt like it was his job to referee their fights, wait for them to cool down and let Karen know if the coast was clear, or step in if things got physical. It happened all the time, but there was a level it could get to that could've (and had) caused neighbors to call the police, and Kenny was in no mood to deal with that.

When they started shoving at each others' shoulders, Kenny put the cigarette out in a bowl in the sink and got ready to intervene. He realized after it was too late that he could have kept the cigarette to burn one of them if things got out of hand. They were still entirely incomprehensible, so it was no use negotiating with words, but Kenny started prying them apart by their shoulders.

“Gi' off, Kinny,” Carol slurred at him. “Stu's a' asshole.”

“Show ya asshole, woman,” Stuart replied, his drunken speech clearer than his wife's. He pulled his arm back and Kenny instinctively pushed his mother back, which was rewarded with his father's fist in the side of his face.

“Mother _fucker!_ ” he yelled out.

“ _Ken_ ,” Carol forced out hoarsely from her spot on the ground where Kenny had pushed her too. “Stu, wha' the _hell_ you done to my baby?”

“Ken, I-,” his father started.

“You what? Didn't mean to fucking hit me?” Kenny growled. “You just meant to hit mom, is that it?” He pressed his hand over his eye were it stung and a headache was starting to pulse through his skull. His fingers came back bloody. “ _Fuck_.”

“I-,”

“Fuck _off_ , Stuart!” Kenny shouted back, wishing again that he had kept the cigarette. He flipped off his father before storming off back to his room. _Let them fucking kill each other for all I fucking care._

“Kenny?” came Karen's soft voice from her room. She knew something had happened and she looked up with concern from where she was doing work on her floor.

“Stay here, Karen. Lock your door and don't come out tonight.”

“Are you okay?”

“Fine. I'm going out. See you later.”

“Be safe,” she said considerately before getting up to shut and lock her door. Kenny swallowed the involuntarily building lump in his throat, guilty over the fact that he didn't tell Karen when he was coming back. It was only because he couldn't be sure that he was going to.

He was in his cape and jumping out his bedroom window in record time with a packed backpack; he always kept one in the corner of his room for quick escapes that included an extra change of clothes, a lighter, a toothbrush, and a bag of Goldfish. And now, the ten dollars he had made that afternoon.

The temperature had dropped considerably since he had been milling around that afternoon, and it caused the blow to his head to smart even more. He hadn't passed a mirror, so he couldn't say for sure how bad it looked, although he knew it bled and he would likely have a black eye the next day.

Just as his feet had carried him to his locker that morning, he found himself at Butters' house before he even realized where it was he was going. Any thought of avoiding the boy was gone now. He had run away and this was where his feet had taken him. It wouldn't be the first time Mysterion had come to Butters' window, but it might become one of the most significant he determined. As if on autopilot, he fearlessly climbed the trellis up to the lit bedroom window and tapped at the glass.

His call was answered immediately, despite the fact that he had come without warning. Butters was rarely away from his room, Kenny had come to learn.

“M-Mysterion?” he muttered, looking over his shoulders. It was habitual paranoia. His parents always went to bed early. “What brings you here?”

“Hey, Leo,” he replied. He had gotten in the habit of using Butters' real name sometime after their elementary trip to Hawaii together. He seemed to be the only one to do it, including Butters' parents, and Kenny liked it that way. Probably because it felt like Butters belonged to everyone else, but Leo belonged to him alone. Butters always blushed when he used the name Leo. Kenny liked that, too, even if he didn't understand why that was.

Kenny lowered his hood. Maybe it was stupid to come as Mysterion, but it had made his escape feel less like a run away and more like he was on some heroic mission. Not that there was anything heroic about leaving his sister in a toxic environment.

“Kenny!” Butters exclaimed, the facade broken by the hood removal. “Oh _gosh_ , a-are you alright?”

Kenny shrugged. “Can I come in?” He no longer felt sick at the idea of being in love, let alone being in Butters' presence. It must have been punched out of him, he decided. He just wanted to feel more at home than he did in his own house, and he knew Butters could give that to him. There was a reason, of course, his house was where his feet had carried him.

“Well, sure,” Butters said, backing away from the window. “But – Ken, your face...”

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” Kenny replied, his fingers absently finding the wound. He made his way to the mirror Butters had hanging on the wall. “Oh. Shit.”

Bebe would have been impressed with the level of “devil-may-care” he had going on, and, disregarding the circumstances, it _was_ kind of sexy. Still, a purple bruise was beginning to blossom around his eye, and his eyebrow had split, which had caused now-dry blood to roll down his temple.

“H-here, let me get that for you.” Butters pulled a first aid kit out from under his bed – Kenny didn't need to question why he kept one around – and pulled out some hydrogen peroxide and cloth strips.

“Oh, _no,_ that shit burns to all hell.”

“That means it's working,” Butters replied, trying to be stern. Kenny let him wet the cloth strips, but flinched when he brought the cloth up by his eyebrow.

“That's alright, Ken, you can hold my hand.” He took Kenny's hand then and began dabbing at the wound as Kenny shut his eyes tight. It stung horribly, but holding Butters' hand helped exponentially. He couldn't even handle a little peroxide without having to _hold Butters' hand_ , but he didn't care. It was the safest he had felt all day. All week.

“All done,” Butters said with a melancholy smile. He didn't seem too pleased with the fact that Kenny was hurt in the first place.

“Um,” Kenny started, and rolled up his pants to where his knee had been scraped from jumping off the swing earlier. It didn't really hurt anymore, and he didn't necessarily want more burning peroxide on his wounds, but he didn't quite want to let go of Butters' hand yet, and he had no other excuse to continue doing so.

“Oh, another one...,” Butters said with concern, getting another cloth prepared. He took Kenny's hand again before he started dabbing. “There we go. Focus on the bubbles, there's a good man.”

Kenny watched him focusing his attention on the cut, enthralled in how perfect he was: his kindness, his lack of judgment, his immediate instinct to hold hands, his pink nose, his long eyelashes that brushed his cheeks when he looked down at Kenny's knee. He grabbed a box of band aids.

“Um, they're Hello Kitty band aids...I understand if you don't want one, but it's all I got.”

“I'd love one,” Kenny said truthfully. _God, he's perfect._

“There, all better,” Butters said.

“And kawaii as fuck,” Kenny finished.

Butters smiled, a little less forlorn. “So...what happened?”

Kenny bit the inside of his cheek, not entirely sure where to start. After all, he wasn't even entirely sure why he came straight to Butters' house anyway, obvious _blaring_ reason aside.

“Parents were fighting. Same old shit, you know?” Butters knew. The boys had a tendency to swap Shitty Parental Stories. It had started out as an accident, but over time, had become a sort of tragic tradition. “I tried to like...pull them apart, as I do. I wouldn't bother, but I wasn't in the mood for the neighbors to call. So Stuart fucking hit me. He was aiming for mom, I guess. I don't know if he actually would have hit her in the _face_. He may have only actually swung his fist because I got in the way. I don't fucking know. Point is, I got hit. It's whatever. Won't be the last time. Or maybe it will be. I ran away.”

“Oh, Ken,” Butters whispered. He was no longer holding Kenny's hand since he had finished with his nursing work, but Kenny wished he was. “You...you wouldn't do that.”

“But I _did_ do that.”

“And...and leave Karen? She...she needs you, Ken.”

Kenny looked down. “She needs _Mysterion_.”

“No, Kenny, she needs _you_. She loves you.”

Tears stung at Kenny's eyes, but he couldn't let them fall. He took a moment and a deep breath, composed himself, and pressed his wrists to his eyes to stop the tears.

“Okay. Okay, yeah, I have to go back. But not tonight. I can't fucking go back tonight. I won't be any help to anyone.”

There were tears in Butters' eyes now, but Kenny couldn't understand why.

“Leo... _you_ don't have to cry. It's no big deal. Nothing new, you know. I just had to get out.”

He sniffed. “I know, I know. I just...I don't know. It shouldn't have to be this way. Why...why did you get sent home from school, Ken? No one knew why. Kyle and Stan said you were kinda weird this morning, and I never got to ask. I hope it was nothing too serious at home. You had a real note and everything!”

Kenny shook his head with a small smile, amused at how impressed Butters was that he had a _real_ reason not to be at school.

“Uh, I was sick, that's all.”

“Oh. Okay. And you're better now?”

Kenny shrugged. “Nah, but it's okay.”

“Oh. Ken?”

“Yeah?”

“Why did you run away to _my_ house?”

Kenny shrugged again. “I...I don't know,” he said. “Figured...you might understand.”

Butters nodded. Tears were still pooled in his eyes, but they weren't falling.

“Ken?” he said again. Kenny tried to ignore how adorable it was that he kept addressing him by name before asking a question, despite the fact that they were the only two people in the room.

“Hm?”

“Why...why don't you stay _here?_ With me. For the night. Please.”

Kenny felt his eyes widen. It certainly wasn't the response he expected to receive from his visit.

“I...No, I couldn't.”

“Yes, you could!” he protested. “You said you weren't going back home, and you're already here, and...well, you said I would understand, and I do, so just stay here. It looks like you already have stuff packed...”

“It's so I don't burden anyone.”

“You could _never_ be a burden, Ken. It'll be like a sleepover.”

Kenny looked down, unwilling to look into Butters' beautiful, yet increasingly desperate eyes. “Hey, man, I love you, but no fucking way.”

“But, you could – wait. What did you say?”

“Shit. Nothing.”

Butters stared at him, growing increasingly pink. His eyes were still watery, but tears were no longer threatening to fall. “Did you...you said...”

“It's nothing, forget it.”

“You said you love me.”

Kenny felt himself choke up. _No tears, no tears_. _This isn't the plan. This was never the plan. He's not ready to know. I'm not even ready to know_. “It's no big deal. You tell everyone you love them. You've told me you love me.” Still, he wasn't saying it in the same way.

“But...you've never said it back,” Butters whispered. “Do...do you really?”

 _Fuck_.

“I...well, yeah.”

Butters' mouth slacked open slightly. His nose was entirely red now. “K-Ken, why did you go home from school? For real?”

“I told you,” Kenny replied, eyebrows knitting together. It was admittedly a rather odd transition. “I was sick.”

“No, really. Why? What made you sick?”

 _How the hell does he know?_ At that point, Kenny found no logical reason to keep it to himself any longer. He had said too much, and Butters obviously _knew_ too much, and he was in Butters' _room,_ for Christ's sake. There were only so many directions the conversation could go.

“I...I realized I was in love with you. I got flustered. I threw up. That's it.”

“...Oh.” He sat down on the edge of his bed. “I...I heard...I mean, I heard...Stan joked to Kyle something about...love sickness. I...I didn't actually think...Oh.”

“Fuck, Butters, I'm so sorry. I really should just...run away. I...I can't stay here. I can't put that on you, I'm so fucking sorry. You don't have to deal with this bullshit, I'll just g-”

Butters didn't allow Kenny to finish his sentence. He grabbed Kenny's purple-clad wrist and pulled him close between his legs. With Butters' low bed and new height, Kenny was about equal with him, even though he was sitting. Before Kenny could respond to his wrist being grabbed, Butters grabbed his cheeks with both hands and kissed him.

It was certainly the most pure and innocent kiss Kenny had ever experienced, but it was also easily the best. His lips were as soft as Kenny had ever imagined they would be, and he was surprised to see that Butters wasn't afraid to open his mouth slightly. It was still a simple, and quick kiss, but not so simple and quick that Kenny couldn't tell that Butters tasted like candy. It mixed strangely but pleasantly with the smoky taste in his own mouth.

Almost as soon as Butters had pulled him close, he drew away.

“Leo,” Kenny said, hardly sure what he wanted to say.

“You don't have to apologize for anything,” Butters said. He was still flushed, but his eyes and voice were clear. More proof to Kenny that he was the strong one. “I don't... _want_ you to run away. I don't deal with...anything you tell me because I feel _obligated_ to. I do it because...I want to. I do it because I love you.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Kenny said, speechless aside from obscenities. His eyes were focused on Butters' mouth, wondering if the kiss had actually happened. It was so quick.

“I tell you all the time.”

“Yeah, I know...I said that. But...you tell all kinds of people. You've said it to _Cartman_ before.”

“Yeah...I guess so. But I say it to you most. You're the only one I've said it to after elementary school. You're the only one...I'm in love with.”

“...Oh.” He truthfully hadn't realized that Butters had been using the L-word so much more sparingly.

“I was waiting for you to notice,” Butters said. “But I never thought you would.”

“You're right, I didn't,” Kenny said.

“Right. Well, I never thought you'd...feel the same. I mean, I know you...like girls _and_ boys, so...there was that, but...You never fall in love with people.”

“You're right again,” Kenny said quietly. “I don't. Except for you, I guess. I mean, maybe I don't fall in love with people because I've been in love with you the whole time. I've only really, like...put a name on it recently, because I didn't understand. But I don't remember ever...not feeling this.”

Butters nodded at the ground. “Yeah. Yeah, I know the feeling.” He looked up at Kenny and smiled, genuinely this time. “Your eye looks pretty bad.”

“It feels pretty bad.”

“Stay here, Ken. Please. You really can't leave now. Not after telling me this.”

“I...I can't take advantage of you like that.”

“You wouldn't be,” Butters said. “Honest, you wouldn't. I'd...I'd want you to stay even if you hadn't run away. I...I hope Mysterion comes to my window all the time. It doesn't happen so much anymore.”

“...Really?”

“Really, really. I want you to stay all the time.”

Kenny sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Leo...remember that one week I kinda had a weird thing with Bebe?”

“Yeah, I remember your weird things with everyone. But that one was especially weird. I didn't really get it.”

“Yeah, well, she was with me because she wanted to make Clyde jealous. And I knew that's what it was. I went into it knowing that's what it was. And it worked and I was okay with it. I don't even really know why I did it in the first place. Clyde pisses me off. Hell, _Bebe_ pisses me off most days. But I did it anyway. I was bored that week, I guess. Anyway, she said she didn't feel too bad about it, because she knew in the end, I was destined to a twin sized mattress in someone or another's basement. She wasn't soiling anyone's golden boy perfect husband. Don't know what the fuck that meant at the time, but it still didn't feel good. But I guess I told myself she was right. Why give in to feelings if they aren't gunna last and I'm gunna be sleeping alone in the end?”

Butters knitted his eyebrows together again and chewed at his lip. Without guilt, Kenny wished he was biting it instead.

“Well, that wasn't a very nice thing of Bebe to say,” Butters said finally. “But you wanna know something?”

“What's that?”

“A twin sized mattress fits two people pretty warm and cozy.”

Butters climbed on the the bed and laid long ways, patting the empty space besides him. With a smirk, Kenny lay beside him. They were both thin enough that they fit side by side pretty well.

“See? Told you.” Butters said. “Comfy?”

“Well, maybe once I change,” Kenny said. “But sure. Better than my bed at least.”

Butters perked up. “Change? So you're staying?”

“I'd love to,” Kenny said, elated on the inside that he was allowing himself to give the answer he really wanted. “Just let me wash up, yeah?”

He went to Butters' en suite bathroom to brush his teeth and change out of his Mysterion outfit, which had started to feel ridiculous until Butters mentioned hoping Mysterion would come visit more often. He had nothing practical to sleep in, so he left on just his boxers and pulled on the Nirvana T-shirt that he had packed in his backpack.

Butters had a horrible poker face and didn't even attempt to disguise the way he looked Kenny up and down when he emerged from the bathroom, bare legs and all. Kenny was sure he was quite a sight with a blackened eye and a Hello Kitty band aid on his knee, but Butters seemed to be drinking it all in eagerly regardless.

“You...look cute,” Butters said, trying to remain calm.

“Ha, you like that?” Kenny laughed. “You don't look too bad yourself.”

Butters had changed into gray sweats and a pink Sailor Moon shirt and it was obnoxiously attractive. He blushed and tugged at the shirt nervously, but smiled softly. Kenny climbed into bed next to him and they got under the thick duvet.

“Comfy now?”

“Never been comfier,” Kenny replied truthfully. He snuggled in closer to Butters, hugging him across the abdomen and nestling in the crook of his arm. He was technically small than Butters now. “Is this...okay?”

“Of course it is,” he replied, voice still laced with innocence. “Whatever you need.”

“I need this...I need you. You know why I came here, Leo?”

Butters cleared his throat, seemingly surprised by the use of his name again. “I thought you didn't know.”

“I do know, though. It's because I wanted to go home.”

“Oh. Is this home?”

“You're home.”

No response came until Kenny felt Butters' lips press to his forehead. Kenny lifted his head to kiss him on the mouth instead and shifted his body so that it was positioned more directly over Butters. The kiss was deeper and fuller, now that they knew what was happening. Butters opened his mouth more enthusiastically and Kenny was pleased with his eager curiosity. Kenny let his tongue meet with Butters' softly, and fulfilled his wish by nipping his bottom lip. Butters released a small whimper as they pulled apart.

“God, I adore you,” Kenny said, still hovering over the bigger boy. His color had come back down to a rosier pink, but his eyes hungry. “You taste so...sweet. Like strawberry.”

Though his eyes retained their hunger, he smiled shyly. “You...taste like smoke.”

Kenny gritted his teeth subtly. “Sorry about that.”

“No, it's okay, really. It tastes like you. I mean, the way you should taste. It tastes right, y'know? I wanted to kiss you, and if you didn't taste like how you should taste, well...it's just not right. I kinda like it anyway. It's like the way your jacket smells. It wouldn't be you if it didn't smell a little smoky. I...I bought a tobacco scented candle, actually. Because of that. It's comforting. I love it. I love you.”

And then there was no question that Butters meant what he said. Kenny knew Butters wouldn't lie to him, but he needed to be sure that the love was the same. It had to be now. There was no denying it. Kenny fell back down, nestled back in the crook of Butters' arm, mixing their scents of cloves and fruit.

“I love you, too, Leo.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> So like I said, I want to write several individual pieces about Kenny inspired by songs. There will (probably) be at least one more Front Bottoms one so consider this the first part of that series. I plan on writing several more South Park fics over all, too (probably the next few things I publish this month will be SP), but they won't all be Bunny probably and they won't all be song-inspired. Probably. I know I have a Crenny one planned, but I mean I ship almost everything, so expect anything. Um. That's it, I guess.
> 
> I also think I'd pay to see someone draw Kenny with his black eye and Nirvana shirt and naked legs and band aid. 
> 
> I have a Tumblr: irlmagicalgirl, same way it's spelled here.


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